


nightmares

by earthbendz (adroite)



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: During Canon, Light Angst, M/M, Nightmares, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sharing a Bed, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-03
Updated: 2020-09-03
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:26:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26270353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adroite/pseuds/earthbendz
Summary: In which Sokka has nightmares, but he isn't the only one.
Relationships: Sokka/Suki (Avatar), Sokka/Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 285





	nightmares

The house is so big and so empty.

At first, Sokka loves it. In between training with Suki and watching Zuko teach Aang firebending, he explores, going up and down the wide staircases and peeking into the sprawling bedrooms. He avoids rooms that he knows his friends are sleeping in—that’s how big this house is. They’re all sleeping in their own rooms, and there are still more left for him to nose around in. It floors him just how much wealth these Fire Nation people have, but he tries not to think about it too much, lest he start resenting one of their most valuable team members right now.

During the day, the vastness of the house is a welcome distraction. It gives him something to do other than thinking about facing off against the Firelord. In the evening, however, it starts to haunt him. Sokka is used to waking up in the middle of the night, of course. He’s just not used to waking up somewhere so large and lifeless. He doesn’t know how Zuko ever managed as a kid. He doesn’t know how Zuko manages now.

Sokka isn’t sure if anyone else is aware, but Zuko has nightmares too. Ever since he joined them at the Western Air Temple, Sokka has heard him wake up screaming more than a few times. Sokka does the polite thing and pretends not to notice, feigning sleep until Zuko is able to fall back asleep himself. But ever since their expedition to Boiling Rock, he’s wanted to say something. He’s just not sure what.

Since they came to Zuko’s old summer home on Ember Island, Sokka has heard him wake from nightmares a few times, but the screams are always so much more distant and subdued than usual. They travel through the cavernous house, growing smaller as they pass through each room. By the time they reach Sokka’s room, they’re almost no more than a whimper. It makes him, more than ever, want to get up and run across the house, find Zuko’s room and ask if he’s okay and what plagues him so badly he can never get a full night’s sleep either. But instead, he usually stays curled up at the head of his bed, staring at the moonlight dappling over the bedroom floor and hoping Zuko is able to fall back asleep well enough.

If Sokka is lucky, he can usually catch two or three hours of sleep before everyone else wakes up. He’s taken to walking around the house at night now, hoping it will wear him out enough to fall asleep before the sun begins to rise. Things look different here in the evening. The breathtakingly high ceilings become imposing, and the windows that aren’t facing the moon become chasms. He spends a lot of time in the kitchen, though he doesn’t usually eat anything. It would be selfish, and it would tip Katara off to the fact that he hasn’t been sleeping much. Then she would worry, and he would have to talk around it, and it would be a lot of hassle just for a midnight snack of half a piece of seal jerky.

One night, he’s wandering to the kitchen, when he catches a glimpse of someone else’s shadow. He leaps behind a pillar that separates the kitchen from the hallway, his heart pounding in his chest. Some Fire Nation soldier must have realized where they were staying and come to ambush them in the night. He peeks around the edge of the column, holding his breath, and the figure turns towards him.

“Zuko!” Sokka cries, nearly falling out from behind the pillar. “You scared the hell out of me! What are you doing lurking around the kitchen at this hour?”

When Sokka first appears, Zuko jumps slightly, his eyes widening. He relaxes when he realizes who it is. “I might ask you the same question,” he responds, his arms crossed over his chest.

Without thinking about it, Sokka mirrors his stance, puffing out his chest and crossing his arms indignantly. “I’ll have you know that I lurk around the kitchen at this hour every night. You’re the one trespassing on  _ my _ routine, jerkbender.”

Zuko leans back against the counter. He seems almost amused by Sokka’s territorial claims, but of course, he doesn’t smile. It’s just a slight flicker of emotion in his dark eyes. “Fine,” Zuko says. “But why are you up, anyway?”

Relaxing his stance slightly, Sokka takes a moment to think as he formulates this response. He could play it off as a joke, and Zuko probably wouldn’t bat an eye. Or, he could be disgustingly vulnerable and maybe use this as an excuse to talk to Zuko about the whole waking-up-screaming-every-night routine. He fidgets slightly as he thinks, then finally settles on saying, “I had a bad dream.” He shrugs, as if this is something that doesn’t bother him in the slightest. At this point, they’re so frequent that it almost doesn’t, but sharing this with someone whose guts he hated up until very recently feels strange. “What about you?”

It takes Zuko a moment to respond as well. Amazing conversationalists, the two of them. “Me too,” he admits finally.

Before Sokka can stop himself, he blurts out, “I know.” Zuko raises an eyebrow. “I mean, I’m not like, psychic or anything—but wouldn’t that be funny? It’s just that, well, um—actually, maybe I am psychic. Let’s just go with that. I read your mind, okay?” Zuko stares at him for a long moment, not speaking, and it takes approximately 2.3 seconds for Sokka to deflate under the pressure of his own stupid lie. “Okay, fine. I kind of hear you screaming whenever you wake up from a nightmare.” He rubs his neck and looks off to the side, feeling weird having finally said that out loud.

He glances back at Zuko, guilt rushing in to replace that weird feeling as he notices how Zuko’s face has dropped. “Oh,” he says carefully. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize I’d woken you up—”

“You didn’t!” Sokka cuts in quickly. Somehow, he knew Zuko was going to take it that way. “I was already awake. I always am. Every night. Ha ha. Wasn’t lying about the bad dream thing.”

“Oh,” Zuko repeats. And then they just stand there for a moment. Sokka hasn’t felt this raw or vulnerable with Zuko, with  _ anyone _ , since that moment when they stood outside the prison together and Sokka saw his father for the first time since the invasion. Sokka had a lot of vulnerable moments during that prison break, and even when Zuko burst into his tent a few weeks back to ask about his mother’s death. Here they are again, baring their souls to one another for some reason.

“You should probably go back to bed,” Sokka says finally. “You need your rest. You’re training the avatar, after all.” He smiles slightly and is pleased to see a hint of a smile from Zuko as well. “Do you… usually have trouble getting back to sleep?” Sokka isn’t sure why he’s prodding more—Zuko really should get back to bed. But they’re both here, and he’s curious, so he might as well. Zuko simply shrugs in response, then looks around the kitchen as if expecting someone to be eavesdropping on their conversation.

“Let’s go to my room to talk. I have tea.”

It’s an odd request, but Sokka follows him, nonetheless. Zuko’s tea isn’t terrible, but Sokka doesn’t have a lot to compare it with. Either way, it’ll be nice to be sitting and having this conversation over a cup of tea instead of standing awkwardly in the kitchen downstairs. The tea, it turns out, is from lunch earlier, but Zuko heats it up easily and pours Sokka a cup. A small candle and the steaming teapot sit between them, though most of the light pours in from the moon outside. Sokka keeps his eyes trained on his cup of tea as he waits for Zuko to start talking.

“I usually don’t,” he says finally. Sokka is confused for a moment before he remembers what he asked— _ do you usually have trouble getting back to sleep? _ It seems not. “But right now is… different. Being here, I mean. I’m glad I could give you guys a place to stay. But there’s just so much history here. It’s hard to fall back asleep once I’m already awake.” Sokka nods solemnly, understanding. “I’ve even considered going out and sleeping on the beach.” Zuko laughs, but there’s a hint of bitterness to it. Sokka sips his tea quietly.

The long stretches of silence that pass between them aren’t uncomfortable. Sokka often feels the need to fill these silences with other people, talking just to talk. He doesn’t feel that way with Zuko, somehow. Especially not now. “I get that,” he says finally. “But for me, it doesn’t really matter where I am. She’s always there.”

The moment he says it, he regrets it. But then, he doesn’t really know who he’s talking about, does he? In a literal sense, Yue is always there, every night, wherever he goes. Her light is sometimes comforting, sometimes a reminder of his failure. In a figurative sense, though, his mother is always there, too—another person he couldn’t save. Sometimes Katara and Suki even make their way into his dreams. He imagines Katara facing off against Azula, sustaining a burn that even her own healing couldn’t fix. The dreams with Suki are more nebulous—sometimes she’s falling off a cliff and Sokka is just barely too late to reach out and save her; sometimes they’re in battle together and he fails to block a fatal blow. Each one leaves him feeling gutted when he wakes up.

“I’m sorry,” Zuko says finally. Sokka looks up at him, the candlelight flickering across his face, illuminating his burn scar. He’s sure that whatever Zuko dreams about, the cause of that scar must be a part of it. He can tell by Zuko’s expression that he’s being genuine, and Sokka musters a small smile.

“It’s okay. You get used to it.” Zuko nods. They fall into another quietude, and Sokka glances over at the window. The moonlight, anxiety-inducing before, now soothes him a bit. Maybe it’s good that he’s opening up, even if it is to the last person in the world he expected to be opening up to.

Zuko finishes his tea and sets down his cup with a soft  _ clink _ . Sokka expects that to be his cue to leave—Zuko really, really should get back to sleep. Instead, Zuko says, “I didn’t realize you had nightmares too. I know that I tend to wake up screaming, but I didn’t think it bothered anyone. No one ever said anything.”

“Everyone sleeps through it,” Sokka reassures him. That he can state for a fact. Oftentimes, he goes around to check on his friends while they’re sleeping, almost like a doting mother checking to make sure her baby is still breathing. He knows they’ll all be okay, but sometimes that’s enough to ease his mind so that he can go back to sleep. He’s seen them stir occasionally when Zuko wakes up in the middle of the night, but they’re generally heavy sleepers.

“That’s good,” Zuko says, sighing. “But you… you never scream. Or at least, not that I’ve heard.”

Sokka shakes his head. He’s not the quietest or most peaceful sleeper in the world, but for some reason, he’s never woken up screaming or thrashing around from one of his nightmares. “I don’t,” he says. “I usually just wake up paralyzed with fear, trying to convince myself that the dream wasn’t real, or that… you know.” He’s not sure if Zuko does know, but he’s really not sure how to phrase “trying to convince myself that even though the dream  _ was  _ real and Yue/my mother  _ did  _ die, there’s nothing I can do about it now and wallowing in my own guilt probably isn’t a productive way to spend the evening.”

“Yeah,” Zuko says. “I think I do.” That elicits a small smile from Sokka. Not one of his normal, lighthearted joking smiles, but a sad smile, one that says  _ I understand you _ .

“You know what helps me fall back asleep sometimes?” Sokka says. Again, he’s speaking before really considering the words coming out of his mouth, but he can’t stop himself now. “Well, I haven’t done it in a while. I don’t like to bother her. But sometimes, if I’m really struggling, I’ll climb into bed with Suki. She never notices until the next morning, but sometimes just having someone else there next to me—a living, breathing person—sometimes that helps.” Zuko nods pensively, most definitely not following Sokka’s train of thought. Sokka continues anyway. “Have you… ever tried that?”

“Not really.” Zuko laughs, and there’s still that twinge of bitterness, but it’s much livelier than Sokka expects. “I mean, who would I do that with? My girlfriend is in prison for treason right now, and I don’t think anyone here would exactly take well to me cozying up next to them in the middle of the night.” He stares at Sokka for a moment, seeming almost offended by the suggestion, but then the two of them burst into laughter. It’s freeing.

The moonlight catches his eye again, and Sokka works up the courage to offer something he never would have thought he’d offer. “I can stay in here tonight, if you want,” he says, avoiding eye contact with Zuko. He wishes he still had some tea left to sip nervously. Instead he stares down at his hands, his fingers tapping nervously against the smooth wood floor of Zuko’s bedroom. “Just to see if it might help.”

There’s a long silence, and while this wouldn’t have disturbed Sokka before, it gets to him now. He looks up and is shocked to see that Zuko’s face is a deep red. Sokka rushes to say that it was a joke, he’s just kidding, to force out a laugh, when Zuko says, “Okay. I mean, if you think that would work.”

Shocked, Sokka nods stiffly. “I do.”

He helps Zuko clean up the tea, carrying the cups down to the kitchen area and then following him back upstairs slowly. Zuko, still blushing furiously, smooths out his blankets and rearranges the pillows for a solid five minutes before he climbs into bed and waits stoically for Sokka to join him. Sokka finds himself blushing as well as he slides under the covers next to Zuko. They aren’t touching, but Sokka feels warmth radiating from Zuko. He realizes it’s his job, now, to help Zuko fall back asleep. He’s Suki in this situation. He tries to think of what she would do for him, but she’s usually asleep when he crawls into bed with her, so he’s drawing a blank.

After a lot of deliberation and watching Zuko try to get settled, he decides to simply reach out a hand. It settles into the crook of Zuko’s arm, and he’s shocked by how warm and how soft Zuko’s skin is. He pushes that thought out of his mind, wriggling around until he’s comfortable and keeping his arm extended.

“Goodnight,” he whispers, trying not to let his voice reveal how flustered he is.

In the sliver of moonlight that falls across Zuko’s bed, Sokka sees him smile slightly.

“Goodnight.”


End file.
